


I Swear

by KilljoyKobraKid



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, During The Hobbit, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Eventual Happy Ending, Ghost Sex, Hurt Bilbo, M/M, Multi, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Reincarnation, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Spirit Guides, Talking To Dead People, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Thorin Feels, Unrequited Love, ghost! thorin, some non-canon shits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilljoyKobraKid/pseuds/KilljoyKobraKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle of the five armies, Bilbo returned to The Shire, despite hurting from deep sorrow and loneliness, decided to start his life all over again and pick up his fallen pieces. Whilst mourning for the loss of his (unrequited) One, he tried to forget him by steering his life back to normal. That is why he received the biggest shock of his life one day, when Thorin Oakenshield,or rather, his ghost, once again knocked into the doors of Bag End.</p><p>"I need your help." he told Bilbo, as soon as the door opened. "Mahal says I-"</p><p>Bilbo could only scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. VISITORS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenOakenshield](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenOakenshield/gifts).



> This is not supposed to be a scary story alright? 
> 
> anyway, I'm going to update lovers in vegas alternately with this so..
> 
> P.S. Thorin's ghost is still as grumpy as fu*k.

_RIIIIIIIINNNGGGGGG!_

 

Bilbo nearly dropped the kettle, his chest constricted in a matter of seconds. For other people hearing their door bell ring, it is often equated with getting giddy, jumping for joy or opening the door at once to grumpily acknowledge the intruder-only to slam the door on their offended faces. But not for Bilbo Baggins who lived at the most luxurious hobbit-hole imaginable, Bag End. Often targeted and envied by many halflings in Shire, it was only natural for them to ring and drop by his house, you see. Bilbo is a young bachelor adored by many, man, woman, elders or kids. Especially kids. He was often known as the _candy man_ , leaving candies, packed cookies and small toys for children who wish to visit his home.

But that was all years ago, when he was still the nice, contented hobbit living the most of his bachelor years. That was when the sunrise can be seen on his eyes and the starlight on his smile. That was when the neighbors did not view him as an oddity who mysteriously vanished and returned just as how he disappeared one unexpected day. Nobody questioned him, he spoke timidly when conversing with them, the last one, as they could all remember, was when he tried to buy back his possession from them. Which is why, Bilbo Baggins' door bell rings once every blue moon ever since then, he was not known anymore as the sun rays of Shire, a dark looming shadow fell upon Bag End, windows frequently shut, his once flower garden which bursted in colors lay dying and weak and dry.

 

The sixty year old hobbit-who hasn't aged a single day- caressed his chest lightly, attempting to ease the now-steadying beat of his heart. He swallowed nervously and gave a sour laugh. "I must be lacking food intake." he said to himself. The door bell rung once again and this time, his eyes begun to water.

 

His mind travelled back ten years ago, one unexpected night, when strange visitors flooded on his doorstep. They ravaged his home, his food and his belongings. He remembered a very dear friend he made, a dwarf who has a distinct laugh lines on his eyes, his hat like a squid's bottom. _"Think furnace, with wings."_ he said matter-of-factly, as if inviting Bilbo to go fishing with him. And then he remembered a wise, old dwarf with a white, flowing beard. Bilbo often hangs out with him to seek counsel about life and just any general things, he was so wise that Bilbo felt he was again attending school!

 

The bell was replaced by a loud yet careful knock. "Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins." It was Mr. Worrywort, his voice muffled against the thick door. Bilbo reluctantly lifted himself off his armchair and opened the door, there stood his neighbor with his wife, clutching baskets of colossal tubers-Mr. Worrywort's specialty- and a box of strange, circular bread with sugar.

 

"Here you are, Mr. Bilbo." the neighbor smiled, handing him the heavy basket. "My finest harvest for this month, it's best for experimenting with pies, I daresay." He winked, Bilbo gave a hearty laugh and thanked him, he then went to his bedroom for a second, rummaged through his chest and found a giant, silver chess piece. "Ah." he smiled and gave it to the surprised Worrywort. "As an exchange, my friend. You can trade that in Bree or of course, put it in your mantlepiece." he finished with a laugh, His neighbor eyed it interestingly and thanked Bilbo.

 

"I won't sell this, no sir!" he jovially chuckled. "A remembrance from dear Mr. Bilbo is enough!"

 

Bilbo smiled at him gratefully. Among the residents of The Shire, there are a quite few who did not see him as bad. There are those who treated him normally as if he never disappeared one day and Mr. Worrywort is one of them, often providing him company and trading artifacts or vegetables with him. Mr. Worrywort's wife cleared her throat and handed Bilbo the box.

 

"What's this?" he asked.  
"My own invention, Mr. Bilbo!" she responded happily "I will call them donuts." she grinned. Bilbo took a bite and the soft, warm, sugar-coated bread melted on his mouth. ~~Reminding him of a first kiss.~~

 

"Mmmmhm!" he nodded. "Good gracious! This is indeed superb!" The couple laughed and Mrs. Worrywort informed him that she'll be selling more of them during the Shire Bazaar. Bilbo waived his hand carelessly and told her that he'll purchase all of them. Mr. Worrywort and his wife bid him goodbye soon, as they still need to prepare supper. Bilbo smiled at them and thanked them again.

 

Upon closing his door, loneliness swelled in his heart once more.

 

 

Sometimes, Bilbo wished that those neighbors who still believed in him, would stop visiting and stop by at his door. He cannot tell them that what he needed was a long-lasting company, one that would not end in a matter of minutes or hours. And getting visited by a few minutes makes his heart ache for more but of course, Bilbo know that it would be impossible. Apart from being distanced by majority of his neighbors, almost everyone was busy these days, taking part in progressing the lives of the hobbits.

 

Bilbo dropped the box on his large, dining table. He silently laughed to himself as he remembered who would devour the pastries in a blink of an eye. Actually, who will devour his food stock in a matter of seconds. _"Excuse me, that's a tad excessive. You got some cheese knife?"_ he smiled but deep down inside, he was boiling with annoyance.

 

The round dwarf did not answer him and continued to balance the cheese on his wobbling chin. But right now, as he sighed in silence to himself, he would give his entire food collection, just to be sure that it had not all been a dream. Of course, it was not a mere dream, Bilbo was certain, no dream or nightmares could make one's heart ache with terrible sadness. Not even the wizard, Gandalf, dropped by his home with Balin about ten or nine years ago after the battle.

 

He decided to take a hot bath, attempting to ease his feelings with the warm water in his tub. But upon sinking on the water, his gaze fell on an untouched herb bottle, it's label written in ancient dwarf language. He was then reminded of the dwarf who gave it to him, he was the one who often dab medicines on his wound, make him drink relaxing tea as they often stay up during nighttime, him inquiring Bilbo about hobbits medicine and then he would listen attentively, with an ear trumpet on his right ear just so he could not miss out a detail. Bilbo would have not been alive today without the elder dwarf.

 

The halfling sighed and buried his head halfway in the water.

 

 

Upon sitting by his old armchair by the hearth, a page fell out of the book he grabbed. Bilbo picked it up and regretted it later when he turned over the page. It was a sketch depicting Bilbo sitting on one end of a boat, his eyes looking upward towards a mountain, he grasped his robes tightly, shivering in cold. And behind him stood a very familiar dwarf. And at that instant, heavy tears escaped his eyes, his mouth turned upside down and his chin wobbled as he cried. His heart thumped wildly as he sobbed, tears falling on the old parchment paper. Behind him stood his One. He was the leader of their Company. the rightful King Under the Mountain, his duty was to reclaim their barren homeland. It was his heart's desire. Surprisingly enough, his gaze was not on the mountain.

 

It was on Bilbo, smiling as his sketched icy eyes surveyed the hobbit. For Bilbo, it could mean many things. His One could have been thankful for him for helping them as far, or he could be laughing to himself silently watching Bilbo battle the cold, hard wind. Or his gaze just accidentally drop on Bilbo that time as he smiled to himself in triumph for finally reaching the mountain. But how is it possible that the young warrior-scribe could have sketched this if it was on accident? On the lower right corner of the paper was a message, it was not in Khuzdûl for the young scribe had his heart set on soft things.

 

_'For the first time in a hundred years, His Majesty smiled genuinely.'_

 

The scribe then handed him the drawing, as he smiled to Bilbo. The latter not knowing if the scribe has given it to him because he knew how Bilbo felt about their king or he gave it to him because he was also in it. He will never know, Bilbo thanked him nonetheless and put the paper on his chest which made the young dwarf happy.

 

 

Bilbo folded the parchment and closed the book, he decided to put it back on the shelf instead of bringing it to his room. A big mistake. On top of his shelf was small, wooden toys representing the entire Company. They were lined side by side, shoulders touching. A flashback of a mute dwarf crashed down on him, he was not exactly mute but his injury in the head rendered him unable to speak anything but Khuzdûl, nevertheless, he used the things around him to speak his heart out, he used the language of hands, the language of flowers, the language of the eyes and the heart. Bilbo raised his hand to reach out for the toys, but it stopped midway. Blinking back the tears, he retreated to his bedroom. He swallowed hard as he averted his eyes from everything.

 

Gandalf was right, he never returned to Shire as the hobbit he once was. As much as he could, he tried to live his everyday life normally as if nothing happened. But it was useless. No, it was not the sudden cold treatment of his neighbors, not the whispers of his long-forgotten friends in his sleep. It was Bag End. The moment he took his first step inside his home, he felt his heart constrict with grief, his stomach churned. He could hear the faint singing, deep melodic voices haunted him in the night. During mealtimes, he'd suddenly stop eating whenever he cast a glance on his plate, his mother's century-old West Farthing pottery. His eyes plays tricks on him often, he could see shadows dancing, bouncing and catching his plate, fork, knives and spoons and as usual, would hear jovial voices singing whatever Bilbo Baggins hates.

 

Tomorrow, he swore as he slid under his uncomfortable, cold sheets. Tomorrow, he'd try to take care of things. Things that were remnants of the past ten years, it is going to hurt like hell but it must be done. Forget as much as he could, maneuver his life back to his hobbit ways. Far from trouble, far from ugly creatures and far from uncertain future. He'd do it even if it means far from whoever claimed his heart during the many nights they shared.

 

 

**======================================================**

 

_RIIIINGGGGG.._

 

Bilbo stirred in his uneasy sleep, occasionally opening his mouth and smacking his lips together. He grabbed the sheets and covered his exposed stomach.

 

_RIIIINGGGGG.._

 

The hobbit's eyes fluttered open. The door bell was actually ringing. He sat bolt upright, suddenly alert for intruders. His heart hammered on his chest, his palms were sweaty and he gulped as much as he could. He gazed outside his window, the night is still pitch black illuminated by sprinkle of stars. Who in mighty Manwë's name would ring the bell in the middle of the night? He sniffed as the bell rung for the third time. Then there was a sudden knock. Bilbo actually squeaked in surprise. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed towards his wardrobe, wrench it open and grabbed a thick, wooden branch of a tree.

 

The knock came into an abrupt halt. Five minutes have gone by in silence before Bilbo, arming himself, wrenched it open and yelled.

 

 

Hamfast Gamgee, stood there, his mouth open wide in shock.

 

 

"What in sweet Yavanna's name are you doing, Mr. Bilbo?!" the gardener asked incredulously, eyes on his 'weapon'. His right hand clutched a woven,large basket. Bilbo took a few seconds to realize what is going on, dropped his raised arm and hung his head, apologizing profusely to his neighbor.

 

"Pardon me, Master Gamgee." Bilbo uttered, opening his door wide to let the former in. "Noise in the middle of the night! Can't say I feel relaxed, eh?" he mustered a decent chuckle.  
"What are you talking about, Mr. Bilbo?" Hamfast threw him a quizzical look. "It's barely past supper." he shook his head. Bilbo turned to him, mouth closing and opening, gaping like a fish.

 

"Huh." Bilbo squeaked. His cheeks blushed in embarrassment as he turned his kettle on. Busying himself with his kitchen shelves, fishing out little cakes and cheese. "Please sit down, Master Hamfast." he said to hide his blush. The gardener happily and obliged and proceed to showoff his package.

 

"Me wife made this, you ought to try this!" Hamfast waived his hand and beckoned him to come nearer. Bilbo took the package and grabbed a silver knife, he opened the wrappings and came face-to-face with a strange, brown pie. Bilbo took his chance and scooped a forkful he immediately shoved in his mouth. He tasted heaven.

 

"Mhhm! Master Hamfast what is this?" he delightedly asked, earning him a proud chuckle from his friend.

 

"Cocoa pie, my dear fellow! But of course, me wife added sweetened milk to help reduce the flavor!" he smiled. Bilbo gave a hearty laughed and rummaged his top shelf for rare goodies. Ever since he was served or delivered with food by his neighbors a long time ago, he would willingly trade some good stuff from his kitchen.

 

"And for that, take these lovely-flavored tea!" he said boomingly, handing Hamfast several packets of teas in a small basket. "Honey lemon tea for romantic nights." he winked, Hamfast thumped him in the back and obliged for a sample. As soon as the gardener's lips made contact with the tea, he smiled as if he aged twenty years younger.

 

"Sweet Yavanna!" he yelped in pleasure. "Where did you get this?" his eyes light up with interest. Bilbo stood up and went to his kitchen.

 

"I got that from a friend from my adventure, you know! His name is Beorn and he's a ski-" Bilbo halted. Not because Hamfast Gamgee would never know the meaning of skin-changer or he would not believe his explanations. Thinking of Beorn kinda hurt like a pang. Anything or anyone related with his Unexpected Journey would hurt like a pang.

 

"Well, from a friend." he chuckled nervously. Hamfast did not press further and drank his Yavanna-blessed honey tea. Bilbo sat across him in silence, no sound was heard except the cackling of the fires.

 

"Well, then." Hamfast said as he sat his cup down. "Gotta go, thanks for the tea Bilbo." He smiled despite the tension and heaved himself out of Bilbo's armchair. The latter followed him to the door to give his thanks. After offering a few more compliments for the cocoa pie, Hamfast left. Bilbo closed the door, his world was muffled by silence once more. He was completely cut-off from the outside and right now, there would only be him, himself and no one.

 

It was on his way to the bathroom when he noticed a white piece of cloth on his armchair. Hamfast left his handkerchief. Thinking that hankies were an important necessity to gardeners, Bilbo opened his door and looked into the night. Nothing but the sound of crickets, Hamfast has long gone home. The night was still, ordinary and quiet. Bilbo sighed to himself and did his habitual sniff.

 

Bilbo decided to stop by the gardener's home tomorrow morning and return the hanky. Right now, past-supper or not, he just wanted to retire and sleep peacefully if possible.

 

 

Just as he laid his head on his pillow, the doorbell disturbed his rest again. He plastered a suppressed smile to greet Hamfast as he was supposed to notice his missing cloth. But upon opening the door, a creature _far_ from Hamfast greeted his eyes.

 

 

"I need your help." the intruder sputtered and without a warning, entered himself in his own house. "I did not know, I swear I did not know how it happened but Mahal told me to-" His words were cut off quickly followed by a scream.

 

He gazed outside and saw lights turn on from several nearby homes, alerted by Bilbo's screams.

 

And then there was a loud thump. The hobbit lost balance and lay unconscious on the rug, his small figure limped ungracefully on the floor. _Thorin Oakenshield_ frowned in confusion and tilted his shaggy head, looking at the hobbit as if the latter was some interesting, homeless kitten.


	2. REQUEST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -To think that Thorin actually questioned himself whatever he did to Bilbo to make the poor hobbit faint, touche.  
> -Why is Thorin's malevolent spirit here and why can't he just plop down his sorry, spectral ass on Mahal's halls?  
> 

_"What in Durin's name did I do?"_

 

Thorin continued to tilt his head on his side. Waves upon waves of hobbits thundered inside Bilbo's home. A few actually helped while the others stood outside, eyeing him like vultures. A whispered filled the night's silence, there were occasional panic voices like:

"What happened?!"

"I don't know, we just heard him scream!"

"Do you suppose he'd seen a wild animal, no?" a gruff voice asked. And with that and several murmurs, few men scraped their feet off Bag End and went home, a little while later, they went back and regrouped, clutching long gardening tools as weapons.

"I think it's the pie!" a stout hobbit was yelling, a woman approached him and smacked his arm. "Don't be stupid!" the woman said incredulously . "It was made with the finest pod!"

 

 

Three or so hobbits carried Bilbo back to his bedroom, Thorin floated alongside of them, his gaze falling on the hobbit he once knew. He had the sudden urge to touch the hobbit's face and check if he was still alive when he remembered that he would not know anyway, he himself was already dead for Mahal's sake! When Bilbo was eased into his four-poster bed, the men wiped their foreheads as the stout hobbit bustled into Bilbo's kitchen. "You can go home now, lads!" he shouted from the kitchen. "I'll take care of him here, send word to Old Took!"

 

The men nodded and waved the stout hobbit their goodbye just as soon as he returned, carrying a small basin with floating herbs. He then strode to a cabinet and pulled out a fresh, white towel. He dipped the towel into the water and wrung out the excess, occasionally wiping Bilbo's forehead and feeling his temperature. The fallen king did not understand but he had felt again a sudden urge to steal the towel from his grip and do the deed himself. And then he remembered that he was transparent.

Bilbo groaned, eyes opening weakly. Thorin could not help but smile as he remembered that too-familiar voice and his too-familiar face which hasn't aged a day.

 

**=================================================**

 

Bilbo fluttered his eyes weakly. He could feel a slight throb on his head. He let out an angry groan as he made out that bump forming on the back of his head. What in Gandalf's smelly trousers did just happen? Why was he back in his room and why is there a thick towel wrapped on his head and most importantly, why does it hurt?

 

The answer suddenly appeared out of thin air. _Literally_.

 

"AHHH!" Bilbo made another scream and oh he swore that he was ready to do another screaming marathon as a transparent Thorin glided towards him and desperately put a finger in front of his own lips, begging him to shut up. Bilbo knew why as soon as Hamfast popped inside his own bedroom. Bilbo stared at the gardener wide eyed, the former was clutching a small basin, he could smell different medicinal herbs floating inside the room.

"How do you feel now?" Hamfast strode quickly towards him and sat on the edge of the bed. Instead of answering, Bilbo groaned.

"What happened?"

"I'm about to ask you that meself." Hamfast replied. Bilbo tried his best to ignore the uncomfortable fidgeting of a floating spirit hovering in the corner. Hallucinations possibly. He let himself a bitter laugh, of all the people he knew in Middle-Earth, he would be hallucinating about Thorin. Bilbo shifted on his bed and propped himself up. He glanced outside the window and saw that the moon was shining high in the sky. Now he knew that it was indeed the middle of the night. Massaging his still throbbing head, he dismissed Hamfast.

"You can go home now, I'm sorry for the trouble." Bilbo apologized, laying a shaking hand on his gardener's. The latter eyed him carefully and raised his own eyebrows.

"Are you sure? What made you scream anyway?" He quizzed. Bilbo sat there,pondering the answer. Should he tell him?  
"Nah, just having a nightmare, you know. My-my a-adventure." he lied, he was tongue-tied. A little part of the reason however, was indeed connected to his adventure.

"By the door?" Hamfast inquired as Bilbo mumbled _'sleepwalking'_.

 

A little while later, after making him a kettle of chamomile tea, Hamfast allowed himself to go home, leaving Bilbo alone in his thoughts and imaginations. He was pretty sure that he just imagined Thorin, probably a result of thinking about him too much. Bilbo slightly blushed upon that admission. He cast a nervous glance at the corner of the room, swallowing hard, he surveyed his entire room, sweat trickling down his face. Thorin was gone.

 

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. He poured himself a cup of chamomile and drank it in one gulp. He laid back on his bed, touched his head and sighed, gazing at his ceiling. It must have really been his imagination. Tomorrow, he will visit a distant Took cousin who is a healer, maybe he could help. As Bilbo closed his eyes once more to retire in slumber, he felt half a heart disappointment that he would never see any of Thorin-ghost or hallucination-by that time he was helped.

 

 

  **=================================================**

 

The hobbit even considered the events last night to be a dream as he stirred on his bed and barely wake up the next morning. He stretched, yawned and moaned, not fully jolted awake. He was attempting to go back to sleep when he heard distant noises in the kitchen. No, not noises, voices. And that was when Bilbo's brain jolted fully awake, alerted and shocked. There were faint clangs and bangs of his pot and spoons, twice he heard his oven door shut. His faucet was wheezing, water threatening to pour down. There were faint thuds on his wooden table and another clanging of small plates. When he heard a deafening crash, Bilbo jumped from his bed wildly and ran to the kitchen. And the first sight that greeted his eyes nearly broke his heart.

 

His mother's antique tea set lay crumbling on the floor, torn into thousand pieces.

 

Bilbo knelt beside it weakly, attempting to glue back the pieces. But it was crashed beyond measure, Bilbo was so heartbroken that he momentarily forgot that someone was actually causing ruckus in his own kitchen. And that was when a gruff voice spoke behind him. Bilbo felt his muscles tense, he was lost for words.

 

"Uh-oh." he said, followed by a scratching of his head. Bilbo, who knelt on his spot frozen and can't breathe, willed himself to address the owner of the voice. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, as if by doing so will wake him up in case this all still part of his nightmare. He stood up with shaking legs, spun himself around. He felt that a bucket of ice was poured on his head down to his body. He stood rigid. And his darkest fears were confirmed.

 

Thorin Oakenshield was indeed, standing, no, _hovering_ in front of him.

 

He wore no armor this time but gold-outlined, sleeveless midnight blue tunic like the one he wore during their quest, with a long-sleeved black undershirt, silk fingerless gloves underneath and a black sash on his waist, on his legs were black pants and his usual dwarf boots. He looked so different, and yet.

 

Bilbo willed all his strength to stop himself from screaming, as if he could. No voice escaped his throat, he just stood there wide eyed on the ghost. The ghost stared back and blinked.

 

"I'm sorry about that, it slipped on my hands." Thorin apologized. (Which is considered a rare treat.) He pointed back to the remains of the expensive tea set, shaking his head.

 

"W-w-whtarey-you." Bilbo said, his insides were shaking with fear. The one you experience when it's shivering cold and your muscles inside just wobble inside of you.

"I'm sorry?" Thorin repeated and edged closer to Bilbo, the latter managed to step back with his stiff leg. "I did not hear!" Thorin said. Bilbo just shook his head, the sight slowly sinking into his mind. If this is really Thorin, why was he so different? This is not the Thorin he knew!

"W-what are y-you?" Bilbo stammered in dear, occasionally taking a step back and putting a distance between them as far as possible.

 

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service." the ghost bowed and he grinned. Bilbo let out a shrill nervous laugh, Thorin never, ever, ever did that. He looked strange smiling,let alone grinning widely. Thorin studied the hobbit, his head tilted in confusion as he watched the hobbit laugh. What in Durin's name is just so funny. "You think it's funny." he commented, sending the hobbit to stop. "You think my introduction is a joke." He threw him a dirty look and far from being angry, he paced in the kitchen.

 

Bilbo shut his mouth at once, he stared at the spirit. There were no slight anger in his voice as he said that but rather a hurt mixed with disappointment. This was not the usual Thorin, the Thorin he knew would give him dirtier looks and scowl, he would glare at him for eternity. But this, specter, sounded like a child who was denied with trust by his parents. Bilbo almost felt his heart tore. Almost. Because as he admit it, this is getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

 

After a long silence, Bilbo squeaked a question."D-does B-balin know about t-this?" he treaded carefully. But instead of a confirmation, he was answered with a frown. And the most unexpected answer was given.

 

"Who in Durin's name is Balin?" Thorin frowned.  
"W-what the-?" Bilbo stood there, his mouth gaping like a fish out of the water.

"I said, who's Balin, you're father?" the ghost asked, Bilbo scanned that transparent face. The confusion was evident but still.. Bilbo yelled and picked the first thing he grasped, a dish of butter. Without hesitation, he chucked the butter towards the ghost's direction. He picked, he threw, the ghost ducked. Bilbo was aware how big of a joke his action was, objects passed through Thorin's stomach, but after all, Thorin was the bigger idiot, for he _flinched and ducked_ whenever Bilbo threw.

"Are you playing games with me, Thorin?" Bilbo asked indignantly. His fear beginning to ease away by the minute, he was overtaken by extreme puzzlement at the situation.  
"No, no. You're the one playing with me, I said last night that I need your help."

Thorin responded, arms shielding his transparent face. "Stop it!"

"I am not going to help your devilry. Now, begone!" Bilbo gritted his teeth and continued to chuck his kitchen utensils. The materials went through Thorin but Bilbo did not stop, he was now convinced that this spirit is a demon posing as Thorin. Why Thorin? Maybe because he was Bilbo's heart's desire and therefore the greatest temptation. "Get out of my house! Curse your devilry!" Bilbo roared.

 

 

"WILL YOU JUST STOP!" Thorin bellowed, unharmed naturally. Bilbo,panting, dropped his hands and stopped. Not because of Thorin's orders, it was starting to sink in his retarded mind that his efforts were futile. Bilbo allowed himself to sink on his chair, his legs were starting to wobble once more like a jelly. This time, Thorin did not disappear and continued to stare at him. Bilbo avoided his gaze, falling instead on a mess of several eggs on his kitchen counter.

"What in devil's name-?" he began.

"I was just trying to make you a breakfast."came a little reply. Bilbo returned his eyes on Thorin, the latter had his back turned against him, he was gazing outside the window as the sun's rays enveloped him, he looked nothing but a faint outline. "But my grasp were weak, I'm sorry." he apologized. Bilbo swallowed and calmed his chest, he banged his head on the table and pondered.

"Let me get this straight." Bilbo began,speaking in a serious tone. Thorin whipped back and looked at him. "You knew that you died?" Bilbo inquired,raising his eyebrows. The ghost nodded and drifted away from the window, he settled himself on the darkest corners of the kitchen so Bilbo could clearly see him.

"Yes." Thorin answered. "Though I could not remember how or why." he confided, he crossed his arms on his chest and looked at Bilbo in the same serious manner, tilting his head occasionally.

"And you said that Mahal did not let you enter his halls?" Bilbo followed, standing up to make himself honey tea. He unearthed two cups from his shelf and shook his head when he realized that Thorin could not drink.

"That's right." Thorin replied, eyeing him. "I know that I'm a dwarf." he added unnecessarily and coughed.

"And..why is that? What did he say?" Bilbo interjected. Thorin frowned, not because he was annoyed at the questioning, he was pondering his answer carefully and struggled as he tried to remember every detail of it.

"Said that I have some unfinished business in Middle-Earth, can't remember what." Thorin, like a living person, sat on his chair and buried his head on his arms. Bilbo sat there in silence, sipping his tea when Thorin let out a surprising noise.

 

 

"OH MAHAL, WHAT AM I GONNA DO?!" And he wailed, he _actually_ wailed.

 

 

Bilbo scrunched his nose and stared at Thorin, the latter bounced from his chair, glided and circled Bilbo's kitchen, moaning in despair. Bilbo sat rooted in shock. This Thorin is so out of character that he cannot figure out if he should yell or laugh. It is so strange and weird to watch Thorin Oakenshield, king of the mighty dwarf-lords to bounce and wail and cry like a brokenhearted halfling who lost his teddy bear. In the end, Bilbo stood up and _forced_ Thorin on his shoulders to sit down calmly and talk. Thorin obliged, sniffing.

 

"Did you know that you are a rightful King?" Bilbo asked as he (cringing to himself in stupidity) poured a cup of honey tea for Thorin. "Here, to help you calm your -err- nerves, if you still have." he offered uncertainly. Thorin took it.

"I was a king?" the latter replied, eyes big in amazement.

 

"Err, technically, yes. But you died on the war-"

 

"There was a war?!"

 

"For your kingdom, yea-"

 

"I have? How is it now?!"

 

"Ten years ago, it was supposed to be that your heir-"

 

"I HAVE A SON?!"

 

"No!" Bilbo roared thunderstruck, rolling his eyes in irritation. "Your nephew, the eldest." Bilbo replied gently. "There were two of them, very brave warriors. Brothers, almost twins!" He saw Thorin's face contorted into confusion for a long time before he relaxed his face. "But they were perished too." Bilbo added, there was a sudden lump on his throat. He studied Thorin, searching for emotion or recognition but..

 

"Nephews? Nah, can not remember." Thorin replied. Bilbo's heart broke for the second time that day.

 

====================================================================

 

Bilbo studied the list he made once more. There were list of what he discovered about Thorin's return hours ago, the ghost hovered inside his house, occasionally popping from behind walls, surprising him. When he took a nap, he gazed into the ceiling and closed his eyes for a minute, when he fluttered them open, Thorin's face was floating inches above him. (Author's note: Like in The Conjuring scene.)

 

Bilbo lit his chimney, settling beside it on his armchair, he surveyed his list, contemplating on how to revert Thorin back to normal as possible. He did not think he could survive another day with this version of Thorin floating inside his house.

 

**_-Thorin knocked into the doors one unexpected evening._ **   
**_-He knows he is dead._ **   
**_-The dwarf god sent him back to Middle-Earth_ **   
**_-He has unfinished business (?)_ **   
**_-He cannot remember anything. Even family and close friends._ **   
**_-He is not his usual self but quite the opposite._ **

 

"What is that?" Thorin's head popped from the fireplace, nearly giving the poor hobbit a heart attack.  
"Will you stop doing that, you're going to kill me!" Bilbo indignantly replied. Thorin ignored him and floated above him, reading his list when a lightning bulb lit on Bilbo's head.

"Ah! I've got a question." He began, grabbing his pen. "When I threw things at you, they went through, when you tried to cook, the eggs were barely cracked and yet, how in sweet Yavanna's garden did you ring my doorbell?" he inquired, nodding his head rather enthusiastically. Thorin gave him a sour look and frowned.

"Uh.. I do not know. It's just that at that time, I knew that I should ring your bell and this morning, I need to cook the eggs." he answered, floating upside down. "But I barely even grasp objects, you see." he added, waiving his left hand. Bilbo jotted this down.

 

_**-He could sometimes touch hard objects, though barely.** _

 

 

"And why is it that you remembered me,if you cannot remember everything else?"

 

 

There was a long silence. Bilbo's heart began to beat mildly. Thorin stopped his floor-diving midway and stared outside the window.

 

"I am not really sure but,I just knew." he dismissed. With a finality on his tone. And just that, the ghost disappeared. Bilbo sighed, this is going to be a _loooong_ night.


	3. THORIN THE (UN)FRIENDLY GHOST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Thorin has now officially moved in to Bag End! Congratulations!  
> -Bilbo contemplates a few theories.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tralala, I am sorry for wrong gramming, msiplled wodrs, and incorrect used of tenses. XD
> 
> Constructive criticism is indeed welcome and keep commenting you lot, it gives me the ultimate POWAAAAHHHH!

===================================

 

It has been two weeks since Thorin Oakenshield began freeloading in Bag End. He mostly spent the days drifting, hovering, floating and annoying the crap out of his host. While the latter spent most of his time trying to glue back the shattered tea set, he often sat down with him and crack nonsense jokes which was only rewarded with a scowl and frown. But Thorin did not give up, oh no. At nights, he could be seen sitting beside Bilbo's circular window. Of course no other person could see him, he was aware. During mornings, he'd excitedly get up and try to cook omelette for Bilbo, only to make his kitchen end up like a pool of eggs. Bilbo then would fire up, grab his cleaning utensils and would curse him to the bones. ~~It's not like he has any.~~ Thorin could tell that, by the incredulous look on the hobbit's face, he was oh so regretting sharing with him a theory that he discovered. Well, it was no longer a theory for it now worked.

 

"I think I've got it figured out." Bilbo spilled out one dinner time.

"What? Mahal's mission?" he asked eagerly.

"No." the hobbit replied as he shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. "Why you could touch things and sometimes you could not."

Thorin did not answer, he stared at the hobbit. Torn between confusion and amazement. Bilbo chewed his steak before answering the funny look on the dwarf's face.

"Look here." he swallowed. "You _had_ to ring the doorbell that night and then you _had_ to cook the eggs." he said matter-of-factly.

"And _so_?" Thorin raised a thick eyebrow.

 

 

"Oh use your brains, why don't you!" Bilbo impatiently snapped,forgetting that the ghost did not have one. "You had to. You're having some kind of determination here." he replied before shoving another forkful of mash. "It's all about energy! Spiritual energy!" he shot when the dwarf did not say anything.

"So you are implying here." the dwarf began, scratching his head. "That as long as I have a strong will to do a thing, I could materialize temporarily?"

"Indeed." replied the hobbit as he started to bite on a cocoa muffin for dessert.

 

 

And that, ladies and gentleman was one of the things Bilbo Baggins will surely regret in the future. As soon as he cleared out the plates that night, he encouraged the dwarf to get out of his way and start training himself on how to hold earthly objects. Thorin was reluctant to try such a drag before, but now he found himself enjoying having to feel sensations from objects. When Bilbo was not crying his eyes out for the tea set, he'd help Thorin train by hanging out in his backyard and they'd play catch with fruits and vegetables all afternoon. A hobby which Thorin carried on doing for days, he was actually having fun. At times when Bilbo was not available, he'd practice it by throwing tomatoes to passersby. Talk about mature.

One sunny afternoon, Bilbo caught him practicing alone. The hobbit settled himself on a lounge chair, watching the dwarf. He laughed to himself as he saw the ever-familiar frown on his face, whispering curses when tomatoes fall through his hands. He was not able to grasp things fully yet-but he's getting there. As he watched, with Thorin's back on him, a distant flashback went crashing down on him.

 

**================================================**

 

His feet dangling on the edge of a high cliff, Thorin's hands closed on his neck and a menacing sneer etched on the dwarf's face. Bilbo involuntarily touched his neck and caressed it as he remembered. He then remembered the echoing cries of many, elves, Men, orcs, dwarves below them. The deafening sound of sharp weapons hitting flesh, dwarves cursing, elves yelling and Men roaring. Bilbo could feel his breath drifting away, he tried to wrench Thorin's hand away but the latter was stronger than steel.

"The Arkenstone." he growled, almost sounding like Smaug. Bilbo whimpered at the thought, he was forced to watch Thorin's slits change into a dragon-like as his gold-sickness corrupted him further from sanity. "You should have given back.." Thorin breathed out. "..the Arkenstone."

There was a loud "NO!" and at that instant, Thorin collapsed unconsciously, he fell in the arms of his attacker as well as his lieutenant, Dwalin. The burly dwarf gave a low cry, eyeing Thorin with pity. Bilbo felt his foot slide off the edge but he was caught by a hand. "Hang in there, laddie!" It was Balin. Other dwarves from their company assisted Balin raising him up, as soon as he was hauled safely on the ground, he himself collapsed as well in Balin's chest, not with wound but of nerves. He had his eyes half opened and he could make out dwarves scrambling to their feet, some were attending to him while Balin caressed his back. Bofur yelled for Óin, the latter running briskly towards them. That was the last thing he saw before passing out.

 

When he awoke with a start, he was in a large chamber lit by torches. He could feel his bones rattle with protest as he struggled to stand up. A bandaged hand stopped him from doing so and was greeted with a familiar warmth. An elderly man with great long beard and hair smiled sadly at him.

 

"Gandalf.." he muttered, the wizard smiled at him. "What happened? The battle?" he asked incredulously, sitting bolt upright.

"Relax." Gandalf answered back, stopping him again with his hand. "It's all over, my dear fellow." he flashed him a smile, but not a smile which assured that everything was indeed alright but a smile which told him that there were many tragic story to tell. Bilbo nodded, assuring comprehension. He sat with his chin resting on his knees, and without a warning, he started to sob. Gandalf could only caress his hair, the wizard was speechless himself.

 

The castle was quiet, the kind of quiet where everyone was grieving. The kind of quiet where everyone tries to drown the sound of it's silence but they cannot stop their hearts from feeling despair. Only Bilbo's cries were heard. No songs, no feast, no victory.

 

"I- I d-did not see the b-battle." he struggled to speak, choking on a sob. He felt such despair that he was aching physically. Bilbo knew it was more than the wound he received.

"You don't have to, my dear Bilbo." Gandalf answered in whisper, tears were glistening in his eyes.

"O-one day." Bilbo choked, struggling to breathe properly. "One day, I'll remember." he immediately stopped crying, he looked into the distance. "Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad. Those who survived, and those that did not." Silence.

 

".............."

 

"I loved him, Gandalf! I loved him. But why?" Bilbo screamed, he stood up and angrily yanked the hairs out of his head. "WITH ALL MY HEART, I DID BUT WHY?!" he yelled in extreme heartbreak. Gandalf stood immediately and attempted to stop him but he squirmed free of his grip. Bilbo banged his head on the stone, blood flowing in a matter of seconds. "There was none.." he choked, the wizard caught him and embraced him from behind, for the first time, not knowing what to do.

 

"My dear Bilbo..Bilbo......Bilbo...."

 

  **================================================**

 

 

"BILBO!"  
"Huh? What?"

He jolted when a large, hard potato hit him squarely on his face. There, stood Thorin, hovering ten feet from him. His hands on his waist, looking impatient.

 

"I kept on calling you but you were freaking on cloud nine!" he yelled like a spoiled brat. If he was a living, he could have stomped his feet on the ground.

 

" _Far_ from it." Bilbo answered, wiping drool on his face."Sorry, dozed off. What is it?" he snapped at the ghost, who looked nothing like his living counterpart memory right now. Thorin's eyes were back in faint icy-blue, far from dragon slits and he was not certainly on dragon-sickness right now. It was more like Bilbo's sick of his face, that is.

 

"Come on, let's play!" Thorin enthusiastically requested. He attempted to throw another potato at Bilbo but his grip went through.

 

"Oops, not determined enough." Bilbo teased in spite of himself. "Anyway, I cannot. I have to prepare for tonight's get-together." he stood up, yawned and stretched,mumbling about getting flour and extra butter in the market. Thorin glided in front of him in a nanosecond. "I told you to stop doing that!" Bilbo scolded.

 

"You mean, there will be people here tonight?" he asked, his voice sounded disappointed but there was a mischievous glint on his eyes.

 

"Correct and might I remind you to behave yourself." Bilbo felt like talking to a toddler.

 

"Oh what could I do?" Thorin teased, grinning as he followed Bilbo back to the house. "I am _barely_ determined to do anything to your guest." he gave a threatening chuckle.

 

"Clam it, _lad_!" Bilbo turned to him and pointed a finger, stressing out the word 'lad'. "I do not want any funny business tonight, got it?" he narrowed his eyes at the dwarf who was fighting hard not to grin widely. 

 

"Indeed." Thorin agreed, Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief when the dwarf decided to follow him further. "In one condition." Thorin's eyes smiled. Bilbo halted in his tracks and shook his head, whatever Thorin's condition is, it will certainly not be good. "How about a round of catch?" Thorin continued. The hobbit looked at him in mock puzzlement.

 

"That is all?" Bilbo sarcastically replied.

 

"Not quite." Thorin laughed, surprisingly able to pick up three apples at once. "If I win, you'll let me peep through your shower curtain. If I lose, you will peep at me." And without a warning, he chucked three potatoes at once in the stunned hobbit's direction.

 

 

 

Bilbo bathed with clothes that night.

 

 

===========================================

 

The party at Bag End was a spontaneous decision. Mr. Worrywort decided to showcase his giant tubers as well as his other titanic fruits and vegetables to sell them. The word was spread from mouth-to-mouth when it was initially decided that they should hold a party instead. Bilbo obliged with a hearty agreement and offered to provide the refreshment for that night. It can be said that, as the guests beckoned themselves inside the house, the party was not about Mr. Worrywort's tubers anymore, all were staring at Bilbo-who wore his most impressive vest, giving him fake smiles and obligatory 'how are you?'s. Some shook his hand genuinely and other women helped him prepare the evening's main course. It was almost fun for Bilbo, who lived ten years of cold treatment, nasty rumors and ugly looks from people.

Representatives from familiar households arrived. Gamgee, Took, Brandybuck, Bracegirdle, Proudfoot and many more. And _of course_ , the Sackville-Bagginses. (Bilbo has already taken precuations and hid his stuff inside his old trunk, just in case.)

The night was filled with fun, music and food. Eventually forgetting about Mr. Worrywort's products. People began to talk to Bilbo again, things seemed back to normal. At little past-seven, children bolted through his door and asked him if he had fireworks. Bilbo laughed and replied that he had a few when he noticed Thorin hovering on a corner, watching everything with wide eyes. Bilbo allowed himself a chuckle when he saw that the ghost stared at the children with a revolted look on his face. His lips twisted in a sour look as he cringed when children began to bounce up and down. After grabbing a handful of cakes in the kitchen, Bilbo led everyone towards his spacious backyard and set up the fireworks. Thorin followed them.

 

While waiting, Bilbo gave each of the children a fire stick. The children waved theirs happily, the mini-firecracker's light illuminating the night with different colors.

 

"Alright, here it goes!" Bilbo excitedly said. Sweet Yavanna, he was no Gandalf but he tried his best to set up this firecrackers just so he could ensure everyone's enjoyment. Both children and adults piped in excitement. Some children went towards their mothers and sat on their laps while others dared to be brave enough to stand closer to the sputtering firework. "Any minute now." he informed everyone as the fire started cackling and there were few colorful smokes emitting from it.

 

Everyone did a countdown and sure enough, when everyone reached zero, a vast amount of colorful fog obscured their vision, the firework shot through the night sky like a rocket and exploded with a burst of bright colors. Some of the lights camouflaged as the star and stayed there in a few seconds before raining down on them in the form of golden spirals. Crackers upon crackers shoot upwards, surprising them as they take form of shapes unimaginable like a mushroom, a bird and a fountain. Each streak of light shining brightly along with the stars.

 

Bilbo took a moment to revert his gaze and stare at his companions. He laughed as he saw everyone gazing up in the sky, mouth open wide in extreme awe. The children were all squealing with delight and the adults laughed in utter surprise, releasing "ooh" and "ahhh" every time a light burst in the sky. Bilbo panned his eyes and immediately halted when he saw a reaction far more emotional than the others.

 

Thorin was also looking up, his face in a generic form of surprise like the others. But it was his eyes which spoke the most, Bilbo saw the fireworks light reflected in his pale eyes, giving them a brighter color. There were emotions on them once again, his ghostly body glowed in bright aura, for a moment, he looked like he was really one of them. He almost looked...alive. Bilbo saw his adam's apple bob up and down, indicating that the dwarf was chuckling joyfully to himself. He looked happy, far from being the happy look when they finally reached the mountain.

 

_This was real. This was felt._

**=================================================**

 

When the show finished, everyone gave Bilbo and his fireworks a wonderful round of applause. Bilbo bowed, beaming. Everyone laughed when Hamfast Gamgee, who was standing at the farthest corner, gave a loud rumble inside his stomach. Admitting that he was hungry again, Bilbo laughed and volunteered to set up tables outside, Mr. Worrywort volunteered to bring out the food accompanied by the flustered Hamfast. A few men called after them and joked that the food better bee complete. Hamfast made a rude hand gesture and disappeared inside.

The hobbits partied their lives outside. Sharing songs, stories and jokes just like the old times. Bilbo sat on one side, telling people of his adventures eagerly. Hamfast opened a barrel of ginger ale and drank the night away. The party continued until the little shirelings were long sent to bed, their mothers returned, joining their husbands in merry laughter. Everybody was having the time of their lives when a deafening crash echoed inside the house. Everyone stopped talking at once.

"What was that?" a hobbit whispered. More crash and a pair of scrambling foot steps. The men slowly rose from their seats and in a tiptoe, approached the backdoor. The women were whispering, Bilbo immediately checked if everyone is safe outside. The men,led by Hamfast, picked up large rocks from the back garden and resumed their stealth approach. Bilbo scanned the backyard to double-check the people when he noticed that two were missing.

 

 

The Sackville-Baggins.

 

 

Bilbo's insides boiled with fury, he told the men to retreat and that he would take care of the culprit himself. They shut him all up, gesturing for him to back away, Hamfast readying himself to jump inside. But before they heaved their nervous breathes, a shrill scream erupted from the house. The thick, green door banged open, they all saw the faint figures of his kin running away in extreme fright. Hamfast saw this and yelled after them "YER NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THAT!" and just like that, he bolted after them. The silence broke and a babble of angry talk erupted at once.

 

"I knew it!" an old Took was saying. "Curse them for inviting themselves!"  
"Have they got no shame?!"  
"Banned. I would not see of their faces anymore!" replied another Baggins.

 

Bilbo left his guests and bolted inside using the open door, striding quickly to his bedroom. And sure enough, his stuff lay across all over the floor, some were whole, some were missing. His lamp lay shattered on the wooden floors. He gathered them up and noticed that all his chess piece from Beorn, his flute from Mirkwood and his silver wool from Lake-Town were taken. He managed to give a sigh of relief when he saw that Sting was still safely hidden on the wardrobe. Otherwise, Hamfast would be in grave danger, close friend or not. The Sackville-Baggins are not the most gentle on Shire and they would do whatever they can for treasures.

 

"Did you get them?" a familiar voice floated inside the room. "I am sorry for crashing your bed stand but I do not know how shall I catch your attention, you see." Bilbo turned and Thorin floated there behind him, still colorful from the fireworks. "Screamed right after I flew above them, I think they saw me but-" he trailed off, leaving Bilbo alone. But something caught Bilbo's attention as the ghost drifted away. Thorin was not still colorful from the fireworks.

 

"Thorin!" Bilbo called, the ghost turned. His outline was slightly visible this time and his eyes were a small deeper shade of blue. "Have you got something to tell me?" he looked at him, never leaving his face.

 

 

"Yes." Thorin answered after a long silence. "I think I know what does Mahal want from me."


	4. THORIN'S UPSEEEET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo made Thorin cry, aww. Idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tralala, please drop comments and kudos if ya like! It's what keeps me going and going and going..

"You mean you remembered everything?" Bilbo asked excitedly, dragging himself across the room.

Thorin was forced to admit. "Well, no." he said, looking down. "But there are fragments and things, I do not know. I am not sure." He suddenly felt tired, his head throbbed painfully. He drifted across the room, hands on his back. Bilbo was quite crestfallen.

"Can you picture those memory fragments?" he asked the dwarf. "Let us see if we could find something out of it." Bilbo pushed his settee away from the floor mess and sat himself down, hands clasped together to maximize his thinking capacity. (Or to look like it). He could feel that this is his chance to help Thorin and correct the error of his ways ten years ago, because up until now, he still blamed part of himself for his death.

"There was...a mountain." Thorin began, his pale blue orbs staring at the bedroom floor. He stared at it as if he hoped to find the answer there. "Covered in snow." He fell silent, but Bilbo thought that the information was not enough. Granted that there was a snowy mountain, it has something to do with the place beneath it.

"The Lonely Mountain..Erebor!" Bilbo breathed out and watched Thorin who watched him back in utter confusion. "Can you not remember anything about Erebor?" he asked, frowning. It is such a strange feeling to forget some things which were connected with your heart from the start. Memories may come and go, they may fade and decolor throughout a person's lifetime, but there are also things which does not need a memory for one to recognize it. A  _home_ , for example. His disappointment must have been too evident on his face, Thorin did not say a word to respond. He merely turned his back and Bilbo could tell, he sighed.

 

"I also envisioned a bright chamber, I do not know what is in it but I think it is full of stars inside."

"How can you say that?"

"It is too bright, I actually shielded my 'memory eyes'." Thorin laughed. And just like that, the tension ebbed away. Bilbo felt himself relax a little, dealing with a tensed Thorin is quite scary. Based on history.

"So, Erebor..stars and..anything else?" he inquired. Bilbo's eyes moved from side to side, up and down, thinking about answers, occasionally muttering words like, "No, that won't do." or "Impossible!" Thorin watched him and his head began to pound once more.

 

"Ah!" he whimpered, the hobbit was on his feet a second later.

"Thorin?" he called uncertainly. "Thorin are you all right?" he outstretched his hands and approached the dwarf.

"I'm.. I'm fine. A big, black bear." he continued, one hand caressing on his forehead. Bilbo immediately knew the answer.

 

"Beorn!"  
"Who? What?" a dumbfounded Thorin asked.  
"I suppose you cannot remember him too." the defeated Bilbo said. "He's a skin-changer who helped us through Mirkwood." he answered non-nonchalantly, he felt so funny answering questions when he should be the one asking some. But the dwarf gave a sudden noise.

 

"Ah!" he gasped, far from the wincing 'ah' he uttered a while ago. "Speaking of that Milk wood, I also saw a forest, woods, whatever. It was so dark!"

"Then you really are talking about Mirkwood, silly!" chuckled Bilbo. "I could not remember passing through a forest as dark as that wretched forest!" he gave a hearty laugh about the memory. Funny that he should be laughing about that now when he recalled that he was nervous out of his wits ten years ago.

"Anything else?" Bilbo egged on.

"Y-yeah. The last. A fish."

 

"A  _fish_?" Bilbo's eyes squinted, focusing on Thorin. He was looking at him as though he has a severe case of dementia.

"Yes, Bilbo. A  _fish_. Memories might have escaped me but I can assure you that knowledge did not." he snapped in annoyance. "I know what a fish is." he added in an offended tone when the hobbit did not reply. (Bilbo was speechless.)

 

"What? Oh of course! I meant no offense,  _king_." Bilbo mocked but he smiled. "It's just that, things you were remembering were so poetic and then...fish." he laughed joyfully. But the dwarf did not find it amusing.

"Go on. Laugh. I would like to see you struggling to roll your eyes to death, trying to reme-"

"But you  _are_ , dead." Bilbo choked, stifling a laugh.

 

Thorin did not react, his pale eyes shining, not of spark, you understand, but of tears. He stared at Bilbo and the latter could feel a strange, cold energy scanning his body. Another hurt look and he  ~~bolted~~  flew out of the door. Bilbo shook his head dismissively at the ghost's behavior. He shouted at him from inside the room that Bag End's door would always be open in case he decide to go home. But he was feeling naughty that day, before he could stop himself, he added:

 

"Or should I leave it closed? You  _won't_  need doors anyway." he chuckled and prepared to go to bed, pondering what he would cook for breakfast tomorrow for him and Thorin.

 

 

 

But Thorin did not return the next day. Or the day after. And the next one.

==============================================================

 

Bilbo looked out of the window nervously, the black sky and the starless black ceiling stared back at him. It was quiet, too quiet.

 

He poked his head out of the window, he could make out the dark surrounding thanks to the December moon looming above the Shire. The wind rustled with a too-familiar degree of coldness-the December wind. A large oak tree stood still at the bottom of the hill where Bag End is perched. Everything is silent, everything was in place. Except for Bilbo's chest. For three days and three nights, he would cast the outside world a glance, seeking for the slightest sight of human activity-or ghostly.

 

Contrary to his thoughts, Thorin has not yet returned ever since their 'argument' three days ago. Bilbo knew that he offended the dwarf, he did not think that he would mind it that long. He thought that Thorin was just going through a phase.

 

Perhaps that was wrong of him, perhaps he should not view Thorin as a ball of angst energy. But could it be helped? Ever since he 'moved in' with him weeks ago, he has been acting like a child. It was very far from the Thorin he knew, the change was so drastic that it affected Bilbo's judgment as well.

 

Still he waited for him.

 

On the seventh day, he could not take it anymore.

 

Armed with a thick white candle, an ancient medallion dangling on his hand and a large garlic necklace (he even tied a large towel on his forehead). He stepped out of his house , he shivered but he tried his best to ignore the cold. The bronze medallion was given to him by his late Took grandfather who claimed that it has the ability to attract spirits who roamed the world of the living. He started to walked downhill, according to the book he consulted, he must utter the name of his targeted soul thirteen times, sniff a garlic then turn around. Bilbo did so.

 

"Thorin..Thorin..Thorin..Thorin..Thorin.." He whispered *Sniff* *Sniff* *Sniff*

 

Then he stopped and cursed himself as he wanted to bang the medallion on his head. How could the summoning work if he do not utter Thorin's full name? And so he tried again.

 

"Thorin Oakenshield....Thorin Oakenshield....Thorin Oakenshieee-" Then he stopped and cursed himself as he wanted to poke his eyes with the candle. Oakenshield was not even a name, what a piece of moldy, dumb fool.

 

Not knowing what to do, Bilbo stopped in his tracks. He really is shivering in cold, not to mention, he feels like 100% done with himself. If a single house flickered a single light on, he would be spending the remaining days of his life inside the cellars of Bag End, he was certain. Maybe he should give up on Thorin completely, maybe right now, he made his way home and decided to pop out of Balin's toilet instead. Or Dwalin's as they are best friends forever and friends are there for each other, right?

 

A howl echoed from a distance. Wargs? Wolves? Whatever. He will forget about that fool of a ghost, turn his way around and start his walk home, then close the door and never let anyone in again. As his lips quiver from the cold, he let his thoughts wander. The moon was full. Does not great stories from old tell them that malevolent spirits and frightening creatures venture out during that certain moon phase? Even after his adventure packed with ugly creatures, the thought of meeting a cackling witch or a headless ghost scared his wits.

 

He quickened his pace, scaring himself now. Ever since he was little he was afraid of spirits.

 _"Then why are you not afraid of Thorin?"_  his mind inquired. Bilbo ignored it and broke into a silent run towards home.

 _"Because Thorin is as attractive as Yavanna's tubers."_  He cursed himself, he cursed his ancestors, he cursed his neighbor's cow.

 

Shaking his head vigorously in attempt to erase the dirty thoughts, he leaped the remaining fifteen feet. No luck today, maybe he'd try again tomorrow, when he would not be making fool of himself. For a second, he dismissed his Thorin going home to Erebor hypothesis and decided to give it a last shot.

He made a mental note to tuck the wretched medallion inside his chest of utterly useless things.

 

 

The next day, even before Bilbo woke up, there was a downpour of heavy rain.

Bilbo bolted out of his bed to close his windows quickly, a second late and he'd turn Bag End into a hobbit aquarium. True enough, there were large puddles underneath his open windows. He grabbed a dry rug from the kitchen, drag it into the water and set himself to work. By noon, there was a sudden typhoon.

But Bilbo still went looking for Thorin. Wearing a very thick raincoat this time, he double checked crack and crevice of his house before stepping outside, braving the cruel gush of wind and water.

"Pretty impressive, Baggins." he smiled bitterly to himself. "If that sorry excuse of a royal does not show up his butt tonight, then he is long gone."

Bullets after bullets of rain poured and splattered on his raincoat, the sound almost deafening him. It was even colder than last night. Still, Bilbo continued picking up his pace, twisting his head to look left then right, to look ahead and look back.

 

 

No Thorin. Mr. Worrywort, yes.

 

"Here, Mr. Bilbo! What are you doing outside?!" Worrywort poked his head out of his own hobbit hole. He bellowed and yet Bilbo barely heard him. His everyday vegetables safely tucked inside a protective shade.

 

"Sorry! Can't stop!" he bellowed back with difficulty. The wind was carrying the sound of his voice away. "I'm looking for something!"

 

"Can't it wait till tomorrow?! It's raining mad out there!"

 

"No, it cannot!"

 

 

 

It was the first time for Bilbo to see his hometown so lifeless. The world was wrapped in dull gray, he could make out little of the huge oak tree, everything was a mixture of rain, wind and fog. Even as he stretch his gaze towards the distant horizon, it was still the blank canvass of the gray sky.

 

 

"THORIIIIN!!"

 

 

He yelled out in desperation. "THORIN!! I know you can hear me!" _Yeah right_. Only the violent wind answered back. "I want to tell you that, okay okay..it's my fault! And I'm sorry!" he was blushing deeply to the roots. Another attempt to look like a fool. "You can come back now!"

 

 

WUUUUUUUSSSSHHHHHH.. WUUUSSSSSSHHHHHH...

 

 

_Nothing._

 

 

Bilbo, defeated, winced in self-disgust. He stood there, in the middle of a large plain of grass. He was drenched as if he swam the great waters of the South. The sky suddenly lit with a blinding white light followed by a frightening roar. Great, thunder. "Relax , Bilbo. It's just the rumbling of your stomach, yes." he assured himself. Ever since he was young, he feared thunder and lightning. He only earned how to expose himself to such forces of nature when he was whisked away on that bloody adventure.

 

There was no choice but to turn back now. Unless he wanted to spend his entire lifetime lying on a bed, sneezing his guts out, inside the cellar of his house. Suffering from eternal flu. To ease his discomfort, he tried to reason out with himself. So what if Thorin would not return? What is it to him? After all, he had been living peacefully for ten years without him, until he knocked on his door one night, he was then forced to remember a distant memory he'd rather not talk about to anyone.

 

"I don't really care." he said to himself, not believing any word of it. Because he really cares.

 

He made his way home, as a failure and an idiot. He did not find Thorin, he was really long gone. At the same time, his stupidity allowed him a brief common sense visitation, would he find a transparent ghost hovering above the grounds during a thunderstorm? He shook his head, whisking away the water from his hair as he closed the door of his house-and on Thorin as well. He threw his raincoat on the laundry pile, change his clothes and went to warm himself up beside his armchair by the hearth.

 

 

 

 

Except that, there was someone already sitting on it.

 

 

 

Bilbo stopped at once, his right hand stuck adjusting his belt on his waist and the other one, pulling it. He stared at the visitor, not blinking. Not daring to blink. His mouth open in surprise. None of them spoke for a minute, the armchair, the coffee table and the carpet stood between them.

 

"G-good afternoon." he uttered, not knowing what to say, feel or think.

 

"Don't start on that one, Bilbo Baggins." the wizard raised the pipe to his lips, sending little rings of smoke out of it. "And it is not even a 'good' afternoon." Gandalf smiled at the dumbfounded hobbit. He had already settled himself on Bilbo's favorite chair and made himself a cup of green tea before you could even say "Trespassing!"

 

 

Then they both bursted out laughing.

 

"Where have you been, you twisted fart?" Bilbo almost yelled, flinging himself to Gandalf's hairy neck..

  
"And since when do you speak life that?" Gandalf jokingly replied but he frowned as soon as he came contact with a cold, trembling body of Bilbo. "What happened to you?" he gently grabbed Bilbo's shoulders and sat him across his chair. Bilbo stiffened. Answering the question is as telling the entire truth. That entire truth was made of an absurd story. That absurd story is such an unlikely excuse. And yet, it was the truth. He knew that Gandalf would not mind the absurdity of the story, anyway. The wizard is a giant, walking definition of strange.

 

"Is there something I must know?" the wizard asked, raising an eyebrow.  _"No, none at all!"_  Bilbo thought sarcastically.  _"Since you've been gone for just ten whole years."_  he was tempted to say but he knew better, he shut his mouth and blinked at the wizard.

 

"You have to tell me." Gandalf retorted. "But first, I crave for that lemon cake of yours." he requested,pointing at a round, delectable yellow cake sitting on top of Bilbo's counter. Bilbo waived his hand carelessly and laughed. "And also, a warm cup of milk tea." Gandalf winked.

 

"Of course, of course! You get the whole pan to yourself!" Bilbo answered excitedly, he bustled in the kitchen and turned the kettle on. The wizard followed him inside, careful not to bang his head accidentally on the chandelier. "Take a seat, take a seat!" He brought the round cake in the table, carefully slice it into eight and then tip the first helping to Gandalf's plate into which, the wizard chewed happily.

 

"Mhhm." he said contentedly, rubbing his stomach. "I remembered eating this the first time I had dinner in this house." he gazed into the distance dreamily,Bilbo was in the mood for a trip down to memory lane so he decided to join Gandalf. Just as he was to scoop a slice of the cake, Gandalf frowned at him and stopped him with his hand. "I thought this was all mine." he said and winked, shooing Bilbo to get his own food. Good grief, he  _really_  is serious.

 

"What a sly, twisted creature." Bilbo commented, Gandalf heard. He looked at him like a parent whose child uttered a disgusting swear word. Bilbo raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Sorry," he apologized half-heartedly. Almost instantly, Bilbo knew what Gandalf would reply.

 

"You've changed, Bilbo Baggins. And not entirely for the better."

 

 

Ah. Thought so.

 

"So." Gandalf said as he started on his third helping. "What brings you to the seas of Ekkaia?"

_"Very funny, really witty."_

 

"Well, uh. I was..looking for..something..outside." Bilbo answered uncertainly, the wizard gave him a funny look. "Yes." he unnecessarily added. Gandalf's eyebrows disappeared. And that is saying something, he had a rather large forehead. Bwahaha!

 

 

"Something?"

 

 

"Yes."

 

 

"In the middle of a thunderstorm?"

 

 

"Yes."

 

 

"And is that thing very important to you?"

 

 

"Apparently,  _yes_."

 

 

"And what is that thing?"

 

 

"Thorin."

 

Bilbo answered before he could stop himself. Realizing his foolish mistake, he put a hand on his mouth in shock, eyes widening at Gandalf's direction. Meanwhile, the wizard's mouth was wide open, not of shock, but he was halfway from devouring a piece of his cake. He froze as soon as he heard Bilbo's answer. They stared at each other in silence before he found the moment to continue.

 

"Did you just say Thorin?" he said sharply. Bilbo reluctantly nodded weakly, he buried his face on his hands due to shame. "Is there something I needed to know?" Gandalf looked at Bilbo, the hobbit flinched at the wizard's stare. He was looking at him as though he regretted not visiting him for the past ten years and now he wonders if Bilbo hit his head on a boulder or something.

 

"You meant Thorin, the Oakenshield one, correct?" Bilbo nodded again, raising his face to level with Gandalf's. He breathed out a deep sigh and in a slow pace, told the wizard the story from weeks ago.

 

"...And then he had some sort of a dream. The Lonely Mountain, a room full of stars, a big, black bear and a fish." Bilbo uttered the last word in slight self-loathing. It was the subject which triggered their little quarrel. Thankfully, Gandalf did not reenact what he did, he's not sure what to say on that. He might as well bolt outside, disappear for days and end up in someone else's toilet as well. "But as you can see, he got upset with me, and ran away." he finished.

 

"So that explains this?" Gandalf said in a bemused way, pointing at the lemon cake. "I remembered that you have a sort of dislike for lemons."

 

"This was Thorin's yes, even though he almost could not chew. This was his favorite which I originally attempted to use as a peace offering or a bait, whatever." he added gloomily. .Gandalf was just watching him, frowning a s though he never knew someone as lame.

 

"You -err- do not doubt what I just told you, do you?" Bilbo asked uncertainly.

 

"Oh no. As I have told you ten years ago, I never doubted you for a second." Gandalf answered in a tone which obviously carried a tinge of doubt.

 

"So, could you make out anything out of it?"

 

"Hmmm?" Gandalf hummed in response, looking dreamy again.

 

"The visions, Gandalf." he stressed out.  _Why was this fart always out of this world?_

 

  
"Well for that matter, you have to think deep, Bilbo Baggins." the wizard smiled slyly.

  
"You're not helping me?" Bilbo's smile fell. "Do you know the answers?"

 

"I could say, yes. But it matters not." Gandalf chuckled. Bilbo silently cursed him. "All I can tell you now is, everything shall fall into your hands."

 

"Me?!" Bilbo said incredulously. "Why is it always me?"

 

"Oh! I don't know. When I first made my choice to hire you as a burglar, I immediately knew that you are the one. Because, I have solid evidences of your abilities. But for Thorin Oakenshield's matter, well, uh, that is what you need to find out." Gandalf vaguely replied but his eyes were twinkling. Almighty Manwë, were they really twinkling?!

 

 

"This is where I take my leave." Gandalf said after a minute. The rain stopped now and there were just tiny spluttering noises of droplets left, sliding down Bilbo's kitchen window. It was a bit brighter outside. "Remember what I have told you, you had no choice but to help Thorin Oakenshield in this one. You, alone." He turned away from the door and hurried outside, Bilbo did not reply. But before the wizard's back disappear, he called out.

 

 

"Gandalf!" he roared, the wizard crane his neck to look back. "What happens if I don't?"

 

"Then he'll be stuck here with you for all eternity." Gandalf laughed, enough for the whole Hobbiton to hear. A big mistake for him. As much to parents' chagrin, children immediately thundered outside their homes.

 

 _"Well, that's not a bad idea."_  Bilbo said to himself and involuntarily grinned, Gandalf must have seen this abnormality.

 

Before engulfing in a sea of little Shirelings, Gandalf called out to him. "Really now Bilbo, Thorin Oakenshield? After all these years?"

 

Whether he answered or not, the wizard did not hear. But Bilbo, as he watch the wizard drown in the children's wee bodies, was tempted to yell back.

 

 

_"Always."_

 

================================================

 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

 

Close the door. Wipe the table. Turn the kettle on. Light the fireplace. Marinade the chickens. Pour the wine.

 

Bilbo tried to move normally, but for some reason, he cannot focus doing his daily chores. His body ached, his muscles seem to seize up and his insides were shivering in cold even if he sat very close to the fireplace with a mug of steaming chamomile tea. He tried moving his eyeballs upward then downward, his head pounded. And yet,as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, cold drops of sweat began trickling down his forehead. He felt groggy but he cannot simply lay himself to sleep without preparing dinner. He'll wolf down his dinner even if he get his legs amputated. Heck, he'd even gulp down the desserts even if he was struck by a lightning. You cannot simply part a hobbit from his food. No force in this world ever could,

 

 

Except perhaps fever.

 

 

Unfortunately, he ate all of his words. In a spur of a moment, Bilbo's focus turn into a sea of nothingness but blur. Everything was hazy, his head was spinning and so is his vision. The coldness inside of his body increased as his body temperature dropped even further. His head was so hot that he could feel a miniature of Mount Doom gurgle it's lava inside. His body suddenly got heavy, his legs could barely support his weight as he felt his consciousness seeping away little by little. Bilbo made his way towards the love seat but collapsed against his coffee table instead. His head banged on the table, all he saw was the darkening ceiling of Bag End before letting sickness take him away.

 

 

Bilbo had a very strange dream. Someone was defiling his house as he lay on his bed, his limbs tied to his bedposts. He cannot scream for there was a piece of cloth stuck in his mouth, gagging him. He tried to talk but what came out were gargled words. Then the defiler began rummaging his kitchen, he could hear the unmistakable sound of food plopping on the floor, the occasional SPLAT! of the pies he made and the sound of breaking china. Plates, glasses and bottles crashed onto the floor, echoing loud unpleasant to the ears noises. Bilbo began to cry, tears were streaming down his face as he listened to his home being destroyed. He tried again to yell but none came. Instead, he could now whimper. So he did. He whimpered, and whimpered, and whimpered until someone could hear him.

 

 

And then his consciousness returned.

And he was really whimpering.

He touched his face, they were wet. Ah, he's been crying too.

 

 

Bilbo was immensely glad that it was all indeed a very strange dream. But as glad as he was, the heavy feeling suffocating his whole body did not go away. He just lay there, on his bed, sweating profusely from the heat. He shifted from his position, he lay down facing the ceiling of his bedroom, touching his forehead with the back of his hand. Great, might this fever continue for the next five days then he'll miss cooking Christmas Dinner, not to mention, the Annual Christmas Dance. Drats. Just as he was inventing recipes for-wait a minute, he is lying on  _his bed_? His very own bed? In his very own bedroom?

 

Bilbo sat up, his head protested as he did so. They punished him by making it pound harder. Bilbo winced.

 

He remembered collapsing in his living room, by his table. So how on earth did he end up lying on his bed? But he had no time to ponder because someone was actually defiling his house.

 

The familiar sound of the food being smooched on the ground fully awakened him, as well as the crashing of the plates and saucers. Then there was the scent of burnt soup, he knew that smell too well. That was how his creamy mushroom soup smelled when his mother, Belladonna Took began teaching him how to cook. Another loud smashing of the cutlery and Bilbo was on his feet. His head still felt heavy but he forced himself. He threw off his bed sheets, swung his feet to get off from his bed then.

 

SPLOCH.

 

His feet came in contact with a very gooey puddle of....soup?

 

That's right.

 

There on the floor, lay a mixture of yellow and green soup. Thick in consistency, jelly-like, it made an unmistakable imitation of Troll snot. The gooey soup squished as he trampled over it, it bursted.

 

"Oh, disgusting!" Bilbo squeaked in revolt, he gave his feet a sour look. And continued to pick up his pace but as he took a step further, his feet then trampled over a broken piece of china. There, on the floor of his bedroom, twinkling at him as if to say "Follow me, Bilbo!" lay several, broken pieces of soup bowl. Bilbo cried. Those were his mother's West Farthing utensils.

 

The disturbance in the kitchen stopped.

 

The hobbit was on his feet again, determined to catch whoever messed his home. He grabbed Sting and swore to his late mother that he will smother the culprit to pieces as soon as he will lay his eyes on him. Hell! Even if Azog the Defiler was the one who broke his century old plates, he will not hesitate to shove Sting's beautiful elf-made blades inside his arse! And then as soon as Azog squirm in pain, he will grind Sting inside his butthole, he will rotate the blades inside until he drilled a hole, he will save no inch. He will plunge it deep. And dangerous.

 

Bilbo broke into a run, there are times that you should not mess up a with hobbit.

 

"Curse befall on you!" He roared when he was ten feet away from the kitchen

 

And to add intimidation, he leaped the remaining five feet. Only to land on a random, blackberry pie smothered on the floor. His right leg slipped as he fell on his back, there was a loud crunch of a broken back bone and then for the second time, his consciousness decided to escape him again. But before giving in to life's painful surprises, he saw a glimpse of an icy-blue orb looking down on him. 

Pale but surprisingly brighter than before.


	5. YULE PARTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, you touched my tralala.. Am so Sorry! This chapter contains Mahal's plans for Thorin. (I promise). Will Bilbo help him despite their tragic past? And why is Thorin more solid?  
> Celebrate with Shirelings as they stay up all night partying.  
> ALSO! Becoming a bit intimate already? *whistles* Oh Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue to drop kudos or comments if ya'd like. Criticisms are also welcome! Say it in a nice way tho! LOL  
> Nine days till Battle of the Five Armies here in my country! I'm getting nervous based on reactions surfacing in the web.

“ I’ve carried you twice now.”

_Wow. Thank you very much._

“I think I broke half of my bones.”

_Such a shame._

“You should consider dieting.”

_Over my dead body._

“Just don’t do that again.”  
   
   
   
CLANG! Splash.  
   
   
“Oh, curses! Now I have to do it again!”  
   
The first thing Bilbo felt were tiny water droplets racing down his neck as they drip drip onto the floor. It must’ve been raining again. He felt like lying on the ground outside his house, he was lying on a puddle of cold water, as his clothes were fully wet. Bilbo moved his arms then his legs, indeed there’s a flood. Also, there is someone sitting on his face, he could smell the revolting scent of a person’s bottom, stinging his nose.

  
   
He jolted awake. What he saw next nearly made him vomit.

  
   
There was a dark green cloth lying on top of his face, encasing several ice cubes, recognizing it’s familiar polka dots pattern, he violently threw it away from his face.

  
   
That was his toilet rug.

  
   
Struggling to heave his weight off the floor, his arms slid down almost hitting his chin on the floor. To his horror, his living room was indeedflooded. In fact, as he stared at his house in disbelief, the water flowed all the way to the kitchen making it’s way on his bedroom. The water mingled with the gooey soup, now completely liquid. For the first time in his life, he swore.  
 

  
   
“Oh, you’re awake.” a familiar voice said. Bilbo snapped his neck towards the voice’s direction and surely, there was Thorin standing on the far end of his hallway,on his arms was a silver basin, like the one Hamfast used to tend to him many weeks ago. And for a long time, they stared at each other.  
 

  
   
The basin crashed.  
 

  
   
“For the love of-!” Thorin yelled, he yanked his shaggy mane in extreme irritation. “Eleventh time this morning! I will have none of this anymore!” He stomped on the water like a child, sending splashes everywhere. Pissed off, he left the basin lying around and marched towards the living room.  
 

  
   
But Bilbo’s eyes were set on another matter.

 

  
   
“Th-thorin..” he began, barely audible. But ghosts, he presume, possess strong sound waves. He need not to speak loudly to call the dwarf. “You’re-you’re..more colorful.”

  
   
Thorin let a few seconds of silence to pass to add drama. “What of it?” he replied icily. He fought hard to keep his majestic demeanor steady but deep inside he was bursting to tell Bilbo some good news. “He must be thinking how cool am I.” He smugly said to himself, massaging his chin. _“Good job, Thorin. High five!”_  
 

  
“H-how did that-?” inquired the hobbit. “That wizard! He never tells me anything! He was here yesterday, Gan-”

  
   
“Gandalf, yes.” he glared at the hobbit. “That wretched old geezer.”

  
   
“You remembered Gandalf?”

  
   
“Oh, aye. I saw him yesterday leaving. That’s why a bit of my memory triggered.” he was forced to reveal.  _“Bad move,Thorin.”_ he scolded himself. _”Minus points for you.”_

  
   
Bilbo walked briskly towards him, in a blink of an eye, he was there standing right in front of him. Or his breasts rather. “Tell me everything!” he breathed out. “What did you see?”

  
   
“And why are you more solid?”

  
   
Thorin breathed out importantly, rolled his eyes and gave Bilbo a  _‘You’ve got to be joking. You didn't know?’_   look before he spoke. “I’ll answer the second question first.” he cleared his throat in authority as if showing Bilbo that he owes him for that.

  
“The more things I remember from my past life, the solider I become. So, if ever the time will come that I shall put all the pieces of my memory together, I’ll become a hundred percent solid, breathing, opaque arsehole.” He explained nonchalantly.

  
   
But the hobbit is suddenly ecstatic unlike him. There were twinkle in his eyes with that revelation. “You mean you’ll be reborn?” Bilbo asked.

  
   
“No, silly. As soon as I finish the job, I’ll disappear once more and continue my journey then to that blasted Mahal’s halls.” He growled in response, Bilbo shushed him as if Mahal was hiding behind a bookshelf.

  
   
“Now, now, Thorin. There’s no need to anger the gods!” he exclaimed exasperatedly. Thorin scoffed and shrugged carelessly.

  
   
“But it’s true. It’s like being dead tired from walking and then when you finally got to plop yourself down a soft, comfortable bed, somebody will prod you awake and order you to walk more, then never stop until you reach your destination.” he whined like a child. “And then the distance’s like circling the earth ten times. What a load of unnecessarily rubbish.” Thorin added to earn more sympathy from his host.  
 

  
But Bilbo was taking none of it, he shook his head in protest of the dwarf’s ramblings. Each race of Middle-Earth has their own gods, while they are taught to honor their’s, respecting the others’ is a must. “Right now, Mahal’s brooding in his mighty seat, wondering if he shall ever accept you for eternity or not.” Bilbo snapped, Thorin ignored him.  
 

  
“And what about the memories you uncovered?” the hobbit inquired. Thorin raised an eyebrow,it would’ve been intimidating if it was not as thick as a bush. “What did you remember?” Thorin was quiet again for the long time, feeling important.  
 

  
“Fine.” he said significantly. “I will tell you what Mahal asked me to do.” he answered reluctantly. It was Bilbo’s time to raise an eyebrow (which is more frightening) because oh he’s messing up! Bilbo had asked for memories not Mahal’s plans! Unfortunately for Thorin, Bilbo bursted out his ‘act cool’ bubble. But it was what Bilbo wanted to know as well so he let the dwarf speak.  
 

  
“I’ve solved everything about the fragments.” he began proudly, bouncing up and down Bag End’s ceiling. “Because of Gandalf, I remembered about a quest to reclaim my lost home, Erebor.” he told, he raised an impatient hand to stop Bilbo who was quick to open his mouth to say something.”And no. I do not remember who my companions were so don’t sweat it.” Bilbo was slightly crestfallen.

  
   
“The first piece was Erebor and remember the chamber shining bright as starlight?” Bilbo nodded.”I was wrong, it was shining bright as daylight for that very chamber is where we keep Erebor’s horde of treasures.”

  
   
“The second one,woods, enchanted forest and darkness; you were right. It’s Mirkwood. And the third, the big, black beast was obviously Beorn. Fourth, the  _fish_.” This time, he sneered at Bilbo upon uttering the last word.”Was Lake-Town.” he concluded. Bilbo,who began blushing in embarrassment because of that ‘fish quarrel’ swallowed and straightened himself.  
 

  
“Sounds to me that those are the places we stopped by.” Bilbo supplied, Thorin smiled at him.

  
   
“Indeed, that is correct, Captain Obvious.” Thorin grinned. ”However, there are quite unpleasant things that you knew none of, that I did.”

 

  
   
“What do you mean?”

 

  
   
“From each of those places, I’ve stolen something.” he admitted. But there was no emotion in his voice. Had it been the real, living Thorin-he’d scowl at everyone his eyes will meet while admitting it. Or better yet, he’d not admit at all. But best, he had not stolen at all! Bilbo could barely believe it.  
 

 

  
“I can’t believe you.” Bilbo said, shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief.

 

  
   
“Let me finish, will you.” the king squinted his eyes at his former burglar. “Not necessarily by me but the whole company, whoever they are, or anyone part of it. Yes, curse those dwarves, now I’ve got to carry their sins on my back!” he finished angrily. Bilbo gave him a _‘you deserve it_ ’ look.

  
   
“Is it for the sake of the quest?” Bilbo asked and “Yes.” the king answered.

  
   
“Then you deserve it.” Bilbo laughed, speaking out his mind. “You shan’t steal for your own benefit. Even if the elves did befoul you and Bard the Bowman doubted the quest.”

  
   
“Funny advice from a burglar.” Thorin shot back, smirking.  
“Ain’t no more.” Bilbo replied. Silence fell between them for a few minutes.

  
   
   
“I’m sorry.”

  
   
   
Thorin whipped around, Bilbo was looking at him intently, eyes full of sadness. True, he bolted out of his door one day because he felt a stinging pain in his chest. He figured out that he hated being laughed at especially by this hobbit. He did not know how but Bilbo, right now, is the source of his strength, he was the only one he remembered upon waking up . His instinct tells him that he should trust the hobbit. So it kind of broke his heart (if he had one) when Bilbo had made fun of him. It was like having a parent who never acknowledges you and laughs at every stupidity you do.  
 

  
“J-just.. Don’t do it again. I’ve got feelings now,you know.” he said.”In case the original me hasn't.” he tried to laugh and found it pleasantly perfect to do it.

  
   
“That’s true.”Bilbo agreed, also having the burden off himself now. “The only time I saw his face contort in emotion is when I caught him defecating at Bard’s house.”

  
   
“You’ve seen me naked?!And poo-!”

  
“Oh my sweet tubers, no! I was just kidding!” Bilbo laughed, massaging his sides.  
   
“Wow, rude.” Thorin commented, pretending to look offended. But Bilbo knew better, he stood beside Thorin and looped his arm through his ghostly ones. Technically, Bilbo’s arm was just floating in midair but it made the both of them happy anyway.

  
   
..........  
   
   
“Bilbo?”

 

“Mhmm?”

 

“Have you ever wished that I am who I am?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“That I should act like the  _real_  me. My real feelings, dreams and hopes.The way I scowl at things, the way I glare at elves-as you've told me- and the way I hold myself with dignity.”

  
   
Bilbo’s smile vanished for a moment. True, he said to himself that it was hard living as anyone else. It was hard to look at things when you are not yourself. You’d create a different identity while having a borrowed personality. What if the time comes when you had to be the real you? Which way do you follow? How many people you made happy will feel betrayed?

  
   
If he would be honest to himself, he’d rather have this joyful, mischievous Thorin by his side than the other one. But then, this was not the Thorin he fell in love with. This was just a temporary entity, this soul will eventually find his way towards his real self. The time will come when he will remember what really happened between the two of them. What he really is and how he tried to kill him. How he really hated him for giving away the most important thing to him. He broke his heart much more than he broke Bilbo’s. And then when the inevitable time happens, he will be torn in two, their reformed bond will be torn in two.  
   
   
“Yes.” Bilbo answered, closing his eyes in defeat. “I even wished that Mahal did not take away the real you.” He had not felt his eyes suddenly brimming with tears, he let them fall, wishing that Thorin did not see it. But he did.

  
   
“Please do not cry, Bilbo.” Thorin said, wiping his cheek. He was grateful to feel a brief moment of a warm finger against his face. Just a fleeting moment and then it was gone. Thorin carried on brushing his tears away nonetheless, even though his hands were touching nothing. “I will always be by your side even if the real me awakens. I promise.”  
   
   
   
   
  
 _“I hope.”_  
   
===============================================

  
   
“So what is your plan?”

  
   
Gandalf asked Bilbo as the wizard dropped by his house two days before Yule. Bag End already looked like a giant Yule card, there’s a large wreath pinned with three poinsettia hanging outside his door. There were even two cardboard-made snowmen standing on his front yard which he crafted yesterday with Thorin’s assistance, though the latter made more trouble than help. Speaking of the ghost, he insisted to pick more flowers to add to his personal wreath and so off he went towards the orchard.  
 

  
“Am I correct to assume that we will certainly be going back to Erebor?” he asked in turn. Gandalf hummed as he picked up a corn muffin and buttered it with interest. ”Of course, otherwise how will you get his ‘Trinkets’ as you may call it?” Bilbo nodded, scrunching his face.

  
   
He told Gandalf about how Thorin unfolded his vision but he left out the ’stealing’ part. He knew that Thorin would be uncomfortable to let other people know about his deed.  
 

  
“Interesting mushroom.”commented the wizard, gazing at his muffin.

  
   
“That’s a muffin.” Bilbo commented before he could stop himself. “It can’t be helped then, we shall go back to Erebor. Any changes you knew about that place?”

  
   
“Oh well, Dain Ironfoot’s rule is still strong as before. And I believe that Thorin Oakenshield’s young sister is back.” he answered. “Though still quite, err, grieving you see.” Bilbo nodded, understanding what that meant. It is not easy to continue living if both your sons and then your brother died altogether, not to mention, being the only one in your family left. Bilbo could feel slight sympathy with her as he was also alone in life.

  
   
“And,uh, what’s she’s _like_?”

  
   
“Well, all I could tell you Bilbo Baggins is that, you’d rather challenge Azog the Defiler and Bolg at the same time than cross paths with this dwarf woman.” Gandalf winked as though they were talking about young, pretty girls dancing on a flowery field.  
 

  
“That’s why, be careful. Remain unseen if you must should you go to the treasure horde.” he added. So he knew they were going to that chamber. Oh man, is that treasure horde only the tourist spot of Erebor.

  
   
“If you shall need help going in, alert Balin or anyone within the Company but most preferably, Balin.”

  
   
“Bullroarer’s pants! It’s like the whole Smaug business again, but this time, much worse!” Bilbo whined as he envisioned himself meeting Thorin’s sister face-to-face.

  
   
“True.” came the wizard’s irritating reply. Easy for him to talk, not participating or anything in this quest.  
 

  
“Well..” Bilbo decided for tips, at least. “ Any idea what should I do if ever I faced her?”

  
   
“That is why you had Balin for help.” he replied, rolling his eyes so un-Gandalf like. “Or you could try to woo her, you’re still the same hobbit anyway, appearance-wise, my you haven’t aged a day!”chuckled Gandalf, Bilbo felt like vomiting.

  
   
“Gandalf that’s disgusting! I have no time for such matters! Anyway, I am just interested with thor-”

  
   
“Thorin, I know. Yes.”  
   
..........  
   
“What?”  
“What.”

  
   
Bilbo stared at the wizard,suddenly flustered. His cheeks burned with extreme blush, in anger or with something else he does not know.

  
   
“Out! Out, you blasted old monkey!” bellowed Bilbo, brandishing his butter knives at Gandalf. He only meant ‘thorough investigations’ and then this miserable excuse of an Istari- ARGH!  
 

  
“Out! Don’t you have a date with Radagast or something! OUT!” he yelled, pushing the amused wizard. Gandalf allowed himself out of Bilbo’s house but not so without taking the freshly baked strawberry cream cake perched on top of Bilbo’s oven, laughing madly to himself as he trotted outside towards his horse cart.  
   
   
 “I’ll see you at the Yule Dance!” Gandalf called out, dipping his fingers on the poor, innocent cake. “He he he he..!”

  
   
“In your face, Mithrandir!” Bilbo shot sarcastically back before slamming the door. That afternoon, Bilbo paid a neighbor to draw a very huge portrait of Gandalf and set it in his front yard,on top of it were scribbled words in bold letters.

  
   
 **WANTED: DEAD OR MOST PREFERABLY DOUBLE DEAD**

**REWARD: LIFETIME SUPPLY OF DESSERTS**

  
  
In which Thorin laughed at for ten whole minutes the second he got back. Sending his hard-earned flowers and berries rolling down the slope as he doubled over, banging the ground with his fist for a long time before getting a grip of himself. Then he stopped and began to groan about the flowers.

  
   
Shirelings began to flock on his front gate, pointing or laughing at Gandalf’s poster. Some even asked if which part of the wizard did he want to have as a trophy, Bilbo waived them away, chuckling, saying that it’s just a joke and he’s just getting back at Gandalf for something. Many found it amusing, some found it disturbing.

  
   
But children, who are the number one fanatics of Gandalf, found it frightening and pleaded Bilbo to take it off at once. He had to give them cupcakes as he explained for the nth time that it was just a joke going on between them. They reluctantly nodded and scrambled away. Bilbo thought it was high time he take off that poster, but upon seeing him doing so, Thorin began to cry. And so he left it as it is.

  
   
The next day is a busy day to prepare for that night’s Yule Dance. An annual celebration of Yule’s eve. A night overflowing with food, drinks, dance and merrymaking. As usual, Bilbo prepared the best food contribution in their potluck. He woke up at the crack of dawn, leaving Thorin,who was dozing off peacefully beside him. He brought out large amounts of cold chicken and marinated them in lemon, thyme and soy sauce for twelve hours.

  
   
 Then he brought out his cookbook to choose other delectable side dishes. He decided to make creamed carrots, excessive amounts of fish and chicken fillet, roasted pork chops, mincemeat pies, beef and corn stew, grilled shrimps and his special signature mashed potatoes topped with cheesy bacon bits.

  
   
It was lots and Bilbo was already sweating from dipping the fillets in eggs, flour and breadcrumbs to and fro when Gandalf arrived with Radagast-who cleaned himself up thoroughly in honor of the occasion. He served them with tea and lime cakes, promising to help him cook as soon as they get to rest.

  
   
“I’m so famished.” Radagast wheezed.”I never knew that bathing is that tiresome!” he said as he combed his now perfectly smooth and straight hair with his fingers.

  
   
“I have a tub, I’ll prepare it for you later tonight so you could bathe while relaxing. You look good, no, dashing!” Bilbo laughed. Radagast chuckled appreciatively and let out Sebastian the hedgehog from his cage.

  
   
“And I suggest you do the same, Gandalf.” Bilbo smirked, teasing the gray wizard. “We’ll make your hair silky smooth too.”

  
   
“You seem rather fond of making fun with me nowadays, Bilbo Baggins.” he commented.”Do you know how many halflings went for my head on the way here?” Bilbo bursted out laughing.  
 

  
“That’s a payback for the last time.”

 

“Indeed?”

 

“Yes. Don’t do dating tips for me again and DON’T STEAL MY CAKE!”

 

“Relax, my dear one.” Gandalf smiled “I _won’t_ do it again.”

 

  
   
   
But Gandalf is as bad as his word, when Bilbo went out to pick some cream cheese at the market, he caught him and Radagast mingling with the neighbors and insisted that Bilbo was dating and seeing someone.  
 

 

 

  
   
He made a mental note to poison Gandalf’s food.  
   
 

 

  
 **====================================**

  
For dessert, Bilbo decided to make a giant lemon cheesecake. With the help of both the wizards, he completed the preparations for the side dishes and has now the time to make such luscious dessert.

  
   
He hadn’t seen Thorin for a long time now. The night before, he forced his way with Bilbo and says he’ll try to help with the cooking but the hobbit said no, reminding him of the soup and basin incident in which Thorin would always reply in small voice.”Everything I did, I did for you.” Bilbo was touched but he still won’t let him touch the food.

  
   
He found him on his bedroom playing with Sebastian, Bilbo had the urge to smile. Sebastian would float a few inches in mid air and if Thorin loses his concentration, he would happily plop down in the soft bed with a gentle thump. He strode inside and opened the windows to let the fresh Yule wind in.

  
   
“I’m making your favorite.” Bilbo told the dwarf.

 

“Lemon cake?” piped in Thorin excitedly.

 

“Yes but much better than plain cake. I’m making yours in stronger flavor so you could taste it.”

 

“ _Almost_  taste it.”Thorin corrected him.

 

“Right.” Bilbo agreed. “I’ll leave you two in here, I’ll call you for afternoon tea.”he smiled.

 

“You do that.” the ghost replied, picking up Sebastian and dangling him upside down.

  
   
Bilbo closed the door, chuckling to himself. If Radagast sees that, he would not hesitate to tell the whole world about Sebastian learning how to fly.

  
  
 **============================================**

  
   
The party starts at six o’clock in the evening, usually with opening remarks from Old Took and some games for the children and the adults. After that,they would be watching the play some hobbits volunteered to act on. For many years, Bilbo was cast as the main character, often playing a hobbit who braved the wild as he meet so many perils along the way.

  
This year however, they chose Mr. Worrywort to play a lead role as the agreed plot will be him as a simple farmer trying to make it big in the market so he bought a magical potion from a faraway wizard (spontaneously played by Radagast) but instead of following the wizard’s advice, he doubled the times he fed his crops, as a result, they became extremely huge and alive (played by little children in costumes).

  
Everyone was laughing madly, some were clutching their stomachs and the whole family of Proudfoot was doubled over on the ground. They were shrieking in laughter watching Mr. Worrywort and Radagast being chased by the colossal vegetables, blaming each other as they run in circles.

  
   
“Curse you and your wretched potion!” exclaimed Worrywort, dodging as an eggplant tried to push him.  
“Me?!” thundered a flustered Radagast. “May Yavanna swell the size of your buttocks as big as your pumpkins!”

  
   
The crowd roared with glee. Bilbo was laughing along with everyone else when he felt Thorin sit beside him on a vacant seat.

  
   
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked the ghost,Thorin nodded and smiled at him,telling him that everything’s just so perfect. But the slight dim in his eyes gave him away.”Thorin? What’s wrong?”

he laid his hand on top of the ghost’s.Thorin hesitated before deciding to speak out his mind.

  
“It’s the-it’s the quest.” he admitted, drooping his eyes in worry. “What if I can not do it? What if you get tired and turn your back on me?” he almost sobbed. Bilbo caressed his cold cheek.

  
“I have traveled far with you before.” he smiled at him. “And I did not give up, what makes you think that I will abandon you in this?”

  
“I-I d-don’t know.” he stuttered, shaking his head.”But Bilbo! I c-could feel that I was once a bad person. I could feel that..that I somehow wronged you before!” Thorin panicked, Bilbo shifted slightly in his seat.

  
   
“Have you been forcing yourself to recall your memories?” the hobbit frowned.

 

“Y-yes.” answered Thorin in a shamed voice.

 

“Then don’t.” answered Bilbo softly, he cupped Thorin’s right cheek and leaned the dwarf’s head on his shoulder. _“Don’t.”_ he said in a whisper. Thorin sniffed.

  
 “We leave the day after tomorrow. But until then, let’s enjoy what Yule has to offer.”

 

  
   
Thorin felt the looming coldness inside him easing slightly, he felt more secure leaning on the hobbit’s shoulders. Once in a while, he could solidify himself completely and feed off Bilbo’s warm energy.  
 

 

  
“Thank you.” he whispered softly.

 

  
   
Before his spiritual concentration ebb away, he had the privilege to feel a tender kiss being planted on top of his head.  
 

 

 **====================================**  
   
When dinner was announced, everyone scrambled to their feet immediately. The scent of the food being carried out of the houses wafted in air ever since the beginning of the party, everyone was drooling like wargs from time to time. The queue could’ve been all the way to Bree so Bilbo stayed behind with Gandalf and Radagast by their table. When the latter wizard was whisked away by the Proudfoots and Brandybucks to join their table for a while, Gandalf immediately turned to Bilbo and got down to business.

  
   
“How is he?” he asked, pertaining to Thorin.

 

“Worried about our little quest.” responded Bilbo. “I said we’ll be leaving the day after Yule.” he added. He scanned the entire place to look for Thorin and found him too quickly standing guard by the lemon cheesecake.

  
   
“Good.” Gandalf said, blowing rings out of his pipe. “I shall arrange transportation and provisions for you.” offered the wizard, Bilbo gave a grateful sigh.

  
   
“Wew. And here am I, worried that you won’t meddle with your troublesome butt this time.” They both laughed heartily for a few seconds before falling in silence.

  
 

  
“What’s he like?” Gandalf asked matter-of-factly.

  
   
“Different. Very different.” the hobbit shook his head. “Sometimes he’s acting like a big, strong, independent man, still stubborn though. And sometimes he likes to expose his soft side, just like a while ago and then act like a brat.” he chuckled this time,watching Thorin chuck small oranges at a chef hobbit who attempted to slice the cheesecake. Gandalf said nothing and followed the direction of his gaze.

  
   
“So he’s in there, huh?”

 

“Yes. He’s the one throwing oranges at Bracegirdle’s bottom.” As if on cue, chef Bracegirdle yelled ”Ow!” Then immediately straightened out, dropping his knife on the table, clutching his back buns in shock and looked frantically sideways to see who did it.

  
   
Gandalf laughed softly. “Now, I really believe you.” he said. 

 

“You mean you didn’t?”

 

“I did but there’s nothing more satisfactory than having the proof right before your eyes.” Gandalf winked. “I suppose you figured it out how ghosts can touch for a moment?”

  
   
“Well, yes.”Admitted Bilbo modestly.

  
   
“See?” Gandalf boomed happily.”You can do this. You’ve really changed, Bilbo Baggins and for the best!”

 

  
   
   
Bilbo frowned. Sometimes, he could not fathom if Gandalf’s still on his right mind.

 

 **=====================================**  
   
The party ended as the clock strikes at midnight, signifying Yule day. Everyone stopped what they’re doing at once and applauded as fireworks after fireworks shoot up into the Christmas sky. Led by Gandalf, of course, this time with Radagast’s assistance.

  
Bilbo immediately pulled Thorin forward-who was busy sniffing the cakes-to watch the fireworks. Thorin was not quite pleased to part from his food but eventually lightened up when the light bursted and enveloped the sky.

  
As a finale, Gandalf unearthed an immensely large red firework shaped like a dragon's tail. When the wizard lit it, it shoot as a tiny speck into the heavens and surprised them all as it suddenly go BOOM! Red and blue light scattered like lost stars and formed themselves into a giant, legendary dragon. Everybody gasped not in horror but amazement as the dragon flapped it's humongous wings and proceeded to breathe a fierce red fire down below.

  
Some children screamed at this but as soon as the fire escaped the dragon firework's mouth, it was all reduced into beautiful, golden spirals raining down on the hobbits. Bilbo looked at Throin and found the latter enjoying himself, gaping at the bright sparklers above. There was a glint of dragon's fire in his eyes as he suddenly grinned more widely.

 

  
   
"Good ol', Smaug." Thorin commented, Bilbo laughed and nodded.  
"Yea- Wait, what?!" Thorin did not answer, his outline became more solid to Bilbo, his colors became stronger as well as his energy.

 

  
   
Without a warning, he stooped down on the ground and planted a hurried but soft kiss on Bilbo's lips.


End file.
